


Scars and Burdens

by EnlightenedCrystal



Category: The Dark Crystal (1982), The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance (TV)
Genre: A little relationship stuff, Character Analysis, During the War, Mostly just friends talking to each other, Post Season 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:47:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27627017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnlightenedCrystal/pseuds/EnlightenedCrystal
Summary: After fighting a Garthim, Rian gains a scar similar to his father's, and everyone worries if he's become too reckless in the fight against the Skeksis.Might include some OOC moments, but I hope you enjoy all the same.
Relationships: Deet/Rian (Dark Crystal)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 17





	Scars and Burdens

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there. The Dark Crystal has always been one of my favorite franchises, and despite the recent cancellation of the series I wanted to get back into writing fanfiction, so I figured why not just do it and see where it goes? 
> 
> This story was based off an idea I had a few days ago. Might contain some OOC stuff for Rian, but I was trying to make it seem like the characters had somewhat matured a little since the end of the first season.
> 
> Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy.

He hadn’t noticed the cut underneath his eye until after the Garthim was dead, when the mud and air had begun to irritate it, causing it to burn. The hellish creature had taken out a small cluster of trees in its death throes, and as Rian surveyed the damage, he suddenly felt all feeling leave his body.

Dropping to the ground in a huff, Rian looked behind him, staring at the large hill he had just tumbled down. The stray Garthim had come close to a tent just outside Stone-in-the-Wood, one where they were housing and treating the wounded.

Luckily, it had been spotted before it could bring harm to the patients inside, and Rian had acted almost on instinct, drawing the Dual Glaive from its place on his back and charging at the monster. However, if he was being honest, rolling down the hill had been a complete accident.

Other gelfling were now rushing down said hill, calling out to him in a panic. Rian was too tired to reply, and settled for waving to them as a sign that he was okay. At the head of the group was Gurjin, spear in hand, eyes focused on the Garthim as he neared his friend.

“Rian!” He shouted, arriving at his side. “Are you alright?”

Rian nodded, then spoke, “Yes, I’m fine. Dazed, but I’ll live.”

Gurjin raised an eyebrow, before letting out a small chuckle. “Not at the rate you’re going, buddy.” Then his eyes narrowed, looking to the dead creature a few feet away from them. “That thing’s dead, right?”

“Pretty sure.”

A low hum of curiosity rumbled from Gurjin’s throat, and he cautiously approached the Garthim, ready to attack with his spear if necessary. The crab-like abomination was turned upside down, eyes dark and legs splayed in a defeated fashion. Sticking out from the beast’s neck was the Dual Glaive, still shining in the evening sun, though now sporting a slight bend in the blades and hilt.

Holding the end of his spear, Gurjin lightly poked the creature in the side, testing to see whether or not it was playing dead. Seeing that the Garthim was indeed sufficiently disposed of, Gurjin set his spear down, before clambering onto the carcass and removing the Glaive.

The sword came out with more effort than expected, and the Drenchen held it aloft in one hand, examining it. One of the blades was slightly twisted, and the handle was now going diagonal.

“For a legendary weapon, this thing sure requires a lot of maintenance.” He looked to Rian, a smug smile on his face. “What is this, like, the third time you’ve broken this sword?”

Rian snorted and let a small grin cross his features for a moment, then it was gone. The Stonewood attempted to stand, but fell to the ground again when his muscles started to feel like they were on fire. Gurjin and another gelfling appeared on either side of him and lifted him to his feet, supporting him with their arms.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Rian?” Gurjin said, eyes clouded with concern.

“Incredibly sore, and I think that Garthim got me with its claw under my eye.” Rian replied, attempting to straighten his shoulders despite the pain in his back. “It’s okay, I’ll live.”

“Sir,” the other gelfling said, shifting his weight a little so that he could help Gurjin get him up the hill. He was a younger Stonewood boy, most likely a new recruit. “Sir, perhaps you should be checked on by a healer? A-at least for your eye? It wouldn’t do t-to have our general ignoring his own injuries.”

Gurjin laughed out loud at the boy’s words, shaking his head in a knowing manner. “Trust me, kid, that is exactly what he’d normally do.” Then he gave Rian a look. “But not this time, right?”

Rian barely got a syllable out to argue before Gurjin shushed him, the Drenchen’s face changing from one of good humor to concern again.

“Really, Rian, you need to take care of yourself. At least this one time, please?”

Rian stared into his friend’s eyes, thinking of a way he could get out of this, but then he felt the soreness in his back, and the burning under his right eye, and let out a sigh of defeat.

“Fine. Take me to Naia.”

**XXXX**

When they reached Naia’s healing tent, the first thing she did was douse Rian with a bucket of water while he stood outside, stating that she didn’t want mud and grime getting all over the place. Now soaking, but a bit less dirty, Rian was helped into the tent by Gurjin, and sat down on a bench where the female Drenchen could inspect him.

“You’ve got cuts and bruises everywhere, Stonewood. What did you do?” Naia had removed his shirt and was scanning over his body meticulously for any serious wounds.

Gurjin, who was standing off to the side, lifted his head to answer. “He tackled a Garthim and they both rolled down that one hill at the edge of camp. By the way, did you do that on purpose?”

Rian shrugged nonchalantly. “Not really.”

“Hmm, fool.” Naia was behind him now, applying her healing magic to different points along his body. As her hands glided over his skin, Rian slowly felt the tension in his back and shoulders ease as his muscles finally relaxed.

Now that his body was feeling better, Naia turned her attention to his face, particularly the strange cut under his eye. The Garthim had blindly sliced at him as they had tumbled, and the cut had made somewhat of a jagged half-moon shape from the bridge of Rian’s nose to his cheekbone.

Bits of dried blood and dirt inhabited the cut, and Naia quickly grabbed a wet rag and began gently rubbing the offending stuff from his face. As she wiped, she spoke to Rian in a straightforward manner, like the healer she was.

“I can use my magic to fix the cut, but more than likely it’ll leave a scar behind. I sure hope you wanted another beauty mark, Rian.” She said, grinning as she cleaned his face of excess dirt.

Rian smiled at her joke, then yawned as another wave of exhaustion set in. “Right now all I want to do is go home and sleep.”

“Well,” the Drenchen replied, tossing the dirty rag away, “lie down and let me do my job, and you’ll be counting fizzgigs in no time.”

**XXXX**

Deet slowly navigated through camp with a basket of supplies, taking care not to jostle the small bump that was growing on her stomach. She was planning on preparing a Grottan stew, and had to make a quick trip to the market in camp to substitute for the ingredients not available on the surface. That, and she needed an excuse to get out of the house. Even if she was going to have a baby in the next few unum, that was no reason to start getting lazy.

Arriving at the small hut she shared with Rian, Deet carefully balanced the basket between her arm and hip as she used her other hand to open the door. When she shuffled in, she was surprised to see her husband sitting in a chair by the hearth, reading an old book Brea had gifted them. Rian’s eyes rose from their place on the pages to make contact with her own, allowing Deet to see the bandage that was now covering part of his cheek and nose.

Rian gave her a boyish smile. “Hello, there. I was wondering why you were gone, then I saw the pot on the fire. What are you making for dinner?.”

Deet didn’t answer, instead offering a question of her own: “What happened to your face?”

Rian’s eyes lowered back down to the pages, and he sat silent for a moment, before answering her.

“Garthim.” He said, but offered no more explanation.

_**“What?!”** _

Rian flinched at the severity of her tone, and watched dumbfounded as Deet set her basket down and hobbled over to him faster than any pregnant woman should’ve been able to. She dropped onto her knees before him, grasping his face with one hand while the other felt its way across his body.

“Are you hurt? Is anybody else hurt? Thra, what happened?” She said, concern and panic lacing her expression.

“Deet, Deet! Calm down,” Rian replied, taking her hands away from his body and holding them with his own. “The Garthim got close to a healing tent, and luckily I was there to stop it. I got a few scrapes, but that’s all.”

He hoped that would satisfy her. He had been mentally reciting that explanation the entire time Naia was healing him, and had only decided at the last minute to omit the part about rolling down a hill with a literal agent of death.

Deet, bless her heart, was not satisfied.

“‘That’s all?’ Rian, do you know how dangerous that was?! You can’t just say you risked your life to fight a Garthim like it’s a regular thing.”

Rian raised an eyebrow at that statement, and she sighed wearily.

“Okay, maybe it _is_ a regular thing, but still, you need to be more careful.” Then she guided his hands to rest on her swelling belly, whispering softly, “We’re both going to need you to stick around, and the only way that’s going to happen is if you stay cautious and alive. Do I make myself clear?”

From under his hand Rian could feel a light kick from the baby, as if it were agreeing with Deet on the matter. He let his hand linger there for a second, before snaking his arms around his wife and pulling her in for a light embrace. Rian inhaled and took in the scent of her hair. It was always a pleasant smell, because it was the one thing about Deet that hadn’t changed during her time topside. Even after three trine, the Caves of Grot were ever present, bringing him back to a more simple time, in the early days of the resistance.

What he wouldn’t give for things to be that simple again now.

**XXXX**

Rian stood behind a troop of soldiers, watching them vigorously attack the practice dummies and correcting them when necessary. It had been a few days since his encounter with the Garthim, and despite warnings from Naia and pleadings from Deet and Gurjin to rest, Rian still rose at an early hour to meet with his soldiers and drill them. While he had agreed to be exempt from the big meetings with the maudras and other resistance leaders, there was no stopping him from staying on top of the militaristic side of things.

The cut under his eye had healed and left a scar from his nose to his cheek, marring his tan skin with a pinkish-white color that Rian detested. Sometimes it would still sting from the air, irritating him even more. _Then again,_ he thought, _it could not have healed at all, and then I’d really be in a bad mood._

Returning his focus to the soldiers, Rian called for them to halt, drawing their attention so he could give out his next orders.

“That’ll conclude our exercises for the morning. You,” He said, pointing to a Drenchen soldier, then to two Vaprans and a Dousan, “and you three there; You four have patrol duty until after the first sun reaches its zenith. I hope you ate before now, because you’ll be skipping lunch.”

The collective groan from the four soldiers was enough to warrant a raised eyebrow.

“Quit complaining. That Garthim from a few days ago came too close for comfort. While Stone-in-the-Wood is the closest point to the Castle, the Skeksis haven’t tried taking this place since the resistance first began, which is exactly why we have to keep vigilant.” Rian kept his tone even and calm, stating the facts in an orderly manner.

One of the Vapran soldiers raised her hand, looking at Rian with barely-hidden contempt. “But General,” she uttered tiredly, “how are we supposed to focus on patrol with empty stomachs?”

Tiny giggles erupted through the gathered fighters. On any other day Rian would’ve let it slide, knowing that the war was getting to everyone else just the same as it was getting to him.

But today was different. Maybe it was thinking of Deet and the baby, or perhaps just the remnants of the stinging sensation below his eye, but right now Rian felt no inclination to play games.

Marching up to the Vapran, he looked down so that her eyes were level with his own. She shrunk back a bit at this, feeling the intimidating aura emanating from him. With his eyes unmoving, glued to hers, Rian spoke in a low register, barely loud enough for the other soldiers to hear.

“I understand that what I ask may sound unfair or rude, but those that we fight against don’t even have the faintest idea of what that means. Do you see my scar? That is what only one Garthim can do, if not worse. Now imagine hundreds, and remember the fact that the Skeksis are the ones that created them. One day we will take the Castle, but we have to build up our strength, and that requires two things: knowledge and discipline. And so far you lack both.”

Rian closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he stepped back from the Vapran. Exhaling through his nose, he glanced around at the gathered warriors, some of which were still giggling. Rian made a point of clearing his throat, and they were silenced.

“I don’t fault any of you for being immature - you have every right to be - but this is a war, and sometimes, you have to grow up a little earlier than you might expect. You’re all dismissed.”

One by one, the soldiers disbanded, speaking in low, hushed tones as they walked away from the training grounds. Rian eyed the soldiers he had singled out, and was relieved to see they had separated into two pairs and were beginning their shifts.

Rian exhaled again, dragging his hands through his hair, ears flickering as they adjusted to the sound of heavy boots approaching from behind. He turned to see Gurjin, a smug look on his face.

“Hypocrite.” The Drenchen said slyly. “Some of those soldiers are older than both of us combined.”

The Stonewood shrugged in an uncaring manner. “Well, most of them weren’t.”

“That’s no reason to speak to them like they’re childlings.”

 _Some of them **are** childlings,_ Rian thought, but he didn’t vocalize it. Right now he wasn’t in the mood for an argument, especially with Gurjin.

The pair began walking towards the center of camp, where the crucible stood tall and proud. Several gelfling were milling about, some barely awake, and others who were just now going to sleep. They walked in silence for a few moments, before Gurjin spoke again.

“You’re starting to become more like your father every day, y’know that?” He said it with a smile, though Rian could see the faintest hints of concern in his friend’s eyes.

Rian shook his head in disbelief. “Gurjin, just because I have a scar in the same place he had his does not mean I am becoming more like my father!”

Gurjin’s features had taken a stony look to them, one that he usually wore when in deep thought. “It’s not just that, and you know it. It’s how you always act so orderly now, and in how you barely ever joke around anybody, unless it’s with me or Deet. Thra, I can even see it in the way you fight.”

The Stonewood’s eyebrow raised quizzically, and Rian stopped to stare at his friend. Gurjin was normally very blunt whenever they had serious talks like this, but now it seemed to Rian like he was dancing around the issue a little. What was he getting at?

“What in Thra’s name are you getting at, Gurjin?”

Gurjin’s stony face smoothed out a little, and it dawned on Rian then how much his friend had changed in just three trine. There were a few more lines on the Drenchen’s face than before, and small, almost miniscule bags under his eyes. The eyes themselves looked a bit sad, like some of that legendary strength Gurjin possessed had shrunk a little bit as time went on.

In the back of his mind, Rian wondered if his own complexion looked any similar, but then stopped as the answer came to him within seconds: He looked a lot worse, and he knew it.

Rian was pulled from his thoughts as Gurjin’s hands settled on his shoulders. The Drenchen looked into his best friend’s eyes, seeing that tiny bit of sadness reflected between them.

“You might share one scar with your father, Rian, but I’m worried that you might have infinitely more wounds than Ordon ever did. Maybe not the kind that you can see, but they’re still there, and I can see that not all of them have healed.”

Then Gurjin pulled Rian into a strong embrace, whispering into his friend’s ear.

“Please, Rian. If not for me, or for Deet and the baby, then at least for yourself. Please, don’t go around killing yourself so that others can have a chance. Don’t be drained of life before the Skeksis get the chance to do it themselves. Live because you want to, not because you have to...”

They separated, and Rian could feel his scar burning again, but when he felt at it with his hand, he was surprised to find he was shedding tears.

Gurjin’s booming laugh made him look up, and Rian saw some of that sadness he had seen within his friend’s eyes replaced with something else. Hope, he thought.

“There you go!” Gurjin chuckled. “That’s the Rian I know; one that shows emotion! Ha!”

Rian smiled, and it felt good, like he hadn’t done it in years. “Thank you, Gurjin.” He said, but then a thoughtful expression took root. Now it was Gurjin’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

The Drenchen smacked his shoulder. “Oi! What’re you thinking of now?”

Rian let a sly smile pass, before he marched in the opposite direction.

“I’ll meet up with you in a bit, there’s something I have to do first…”

**XXXX**

The suns above Stone-in-the-Wood were hot today. It didn’t help that the heavy leather of a soldier’s uniform was made up of primarily dark colors. Sweat was pooled up under her arms and in the braids of hair tucked underneath her helmet, slowly inching its way down her face and body like rain droplets on stone. Her legs ached from walking, and they had barely started patrolling the perimeter of camp some twenty minutes ago.

Her stomach growled, adding to her pain.

“Damn that General Rian.” Aletta said, moving her palm to her belly in the hope of quelling her unquellable stomach. Beside her, the other, older Vapran - Destal was his name - laughed at her predicament, resting a hand on her shoulder.

“And that is why I always eat extra bread in the mornings. You never know who he’ll pick for the afternoon patrol.”

“It’s not the patrol and lack of food,” Aletta replied. “At least, not most of it. He never lets us take a break for even a day! You know this is my third patrol in two weeks?”

“So? This is my fifth.” Her companion countered, retracting his hand and letting it rest at his side. He stopped to gaze into the sky, allowing Aletta to rest her legs and rub her stomach soothingly.

The Vapran girl let out a groan as she sat down on a tree stump, taking off her helmet and setting it on the ground. “He also embarrassed me in front of the whole group! Do you know how humiliating that was?”

Destal laughed again. “Back when I was a paladin in Ha’rar, the All-Maudra Mayrin once caught me singing in the hallway. When it comes to embarrassment, I think getting scolded by a Stonewood general pales in comparison to that.”

A new voice joined them from behind. “That definitely sounds a lot worse.”

The two warriors jumped in surprise, looking back to see Rian leaning against a tree, a small sack on his shoulder. Both Vaprans stood ramrod straight, but the general simply waved his hand. “At ease, I didn’t come here to be formal.”

Rian pushed off the tree, reached into the sack, and tossed them some peachberries. Aletta caught hers with both hands, while Destal fumbled his and had to pick it up from the ground. The pair of Vaprans looked wide-eyed at the fruit, nervously glancing back to Rian.

“If this is a joke, it’s not very funny, sir.” Aletta said, still holding the peachberry cautiously.

Rian gave her a light smile. “It’s not a joke, it’s food. Take a break, and that’s an order.”

Just as he was turning away, Destal called out to him. “Wait, sir!”

Rian looked back to him. “Hm? Did you want another one?”

“Wha-- No! Uh, well, why are you doing this?” The question was one said in nervous confusion, and Rian swore he could hear a small voice crack toward the end.

Rian glanced at the ground, then scanned the sky, trying to find his words. His eyes focused on the beauty of the three suns, and he smiled.

“I’ve grown up a lot in the last three trine, maybe too much. For a while I had forgotten that between all the fighting, and the stress, and the war, there are still some things that we need to preserve - things we need to protect - that don’t just pertain to battling the Skeksis.”

Aletta tilted her head in confusion. “Like what?”

Rian repositioned the sack onto his shoulder. “Well, for starters, our youth. Can’t have life without the Skeksis if you’re too jaded and old-fashioned to enjoy it!”

The Stonewood warrior laughed, and without another word, began walking back to camp, leaving the two Vaprans absolutely dumbfounded.

“That was…. Very strange.”

“Just be quiet and eat your peachberry Destal.”

**XXXX**

That night, Rian laid down next to Deet on their bed. She was already asleep by the time he had gotten home, and after a short drink by the fire, he was tired too. Pulling the covers over himself, Rian moved so that he held Deet in a snug embrace from behind.

He got a small whiff of her hair, and was surprised to find that it no longer smelled like the Caves of Grot, but the trees and air of Stone-in-the-Wood. It was different, but as Rian felt sleep tugging at his eyelids, he found that he liked it.

Words that felt like they were from millennia ago echoed through his mind. _It will be better._ So long ago he had said them, and he thought he knew what it meant then, but now the words took on a whole new meaning.

“It will be better,” he repeated softly, pulling Deet closer to him. Then, with more confidence than he had ever possessed, he whispered, “It _is_ better.”


End file.
